


With Friends Like These...

by raunchyandpaunchy



Series: Myriad Realms of Revelry [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, Cunnilingus, Exhibitionism, F/F, Frottage, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Mommy Issues, Nobody in this fic is a good person, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-17 04:23:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21048230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raunchyandpaunchy/pseuds/raunchyandpaunchy
Summary: Astrid and Maven Black-Briar have been friends and business associates for years. They know each other's secrets--what they really do for a living, where the bodies are buried.Well, almost all of each other's secrets. And what Maven doesn't know about her daughter won't hurt her.





	With Friends Like These...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey readers! 
> 
> Some relevant backstory/info for this fic: It's set in the Modern AU me and a few friends are working on. In this AU, the Thieves Guild front (one of them, anyway) is a bar/strip club called Nightingale's, run by Mercer. Also in this AU, Mercer is Ingun's father. 
> 
> Also, a disclaimer: as you may have guessed by the tags, this fic has problematic elements out the wazoo. Astrid's fucking her best friend's daughter behind her back, and absolutely (albeit consensually) playing on her mommy issues. This isn't meant to be an ethical fic, or a morally "right" pairing--it's meant to be taboo and filthy and bad in all the best ways.
> 
> And with that lil disclaimer out of the way, I hope you enjoy!

It was hitting dusk when Astrid arrived outside Nightingale’s, Shadowmere’s engine purring. Even amongst the dancers congregated outside grabbing a quick smoke before they hit the stage, Ingun Black-Briar stood out—all thigh-high socks and red lipstick and a skirt short enough to thoroughly piss off her father. Her arm was wrapped around a redheaded dancer’s waist as they shared a cigarette, the butt tinged scarlet, the pair blowing smoke rings into the cool evening air. 

“Think your ride’s arrived,” the redhead said, nodding at Astrid’s car with a smirk. Ingun pulled her close, the pair joining in a kiss that was clearly meant for Astrid’s amusement, rough and messy and utterly performative. The redhead’s hand groped Ingun’s ass, and Astrid wondered just how diligently Ingun had followed the instructions she’d texted her.

Ingun pulled away, grinning shamelessly as she wiped the cherry-red smudge from the other woman’s lips. “Knock ‘em dead, Ysolda,” she said, stuffing a handful of notes into the redhead’s bra. “And tell my dad if he pulls any bullshit with you about stage fees I’ll hire you as my own private dancer.”

Astrid laughed inwardly at the idea. Ingun seemed to make it her mission to antagonise both her parents, and Astrid didn’t entirely blame her—being the daughter of a crime lord and Maven Black-Briar couldn’t be anyone’s idea of a functional, conventional upbringing. She’d known Maven for years, both personally and professionally, and was acutely aware more than anyone of how brutal and ruthless the woman could be. 

Perhaps that’s what had drawn Ingun to her—that understanding that they both knew exactly who her mother was. Or maybe it was just a way for Ingun to get back at her. Astrid didn’t care. Both were things she could use.

The passenger door opened and Ingun climbed inside, smiling wickedly at Astrid. “Took your time.” She ran a strand of hair through her fingers. “Had to find ways to entertain myself.”

“So I noticed,” Astrid replied coolly. “Wonder how mommy dearest would react if she knew how you were spending her money?”

Ingun raised a brow. “Why don’t you ask her over dinner?”

The corner of Astrid’s mouth twitched. Part of what made fucking Ingun so fun was the desperate brand of defiance she always displayed, the challenge inherent. And Astrid enjoyed nothing more than a challenge. “I believe you owe me something first.”

With a grin, Ingun sidled her panties down and gave them to Astrid. White cotton, presumably expensive, already damp with wetness. Astrid opened the glove compartment and threw them in before retrieving something small and curved.

“I’m assuming I don’t need to tell you what to do with this,” Astrid said, handing the toy to Ingun. “That is, provided you read my instructions.”

Ingun spread her legs, inserting the main part of the toy. “Skimmed them.” The position she was in gave Astrid a full view of her cunt and the plug in her ass, which made it abundantly clear she’d done more than skimmed. For all Ingun’s affected attitude, the girl was intelligent, with a genuine desire to be obedient. She liked testing people, but deep down, what she really liked was impressing them. Wanted to earn their respect and gratitude.

And Astrid would give her those things, eventually. After she’d worked for them.

“Switch it on and make sure it stays in.” Astrid allowed the smile to spread across her face. “And make sure you don’t come.”

A defiant little look flashed in Ingun’s eyes, but she complied, shivering slightly as the first vibrations of the toy rumbled against her clit. The outline of her nipples pressed through her top, the shape of the rings that pierced through them perfectly visible, and Astrid thanked Sithis the woman she was fucking had such an aversion to bras. She turned the key in the ignition, and Shadowmere’s engine purred to life once more. One gloved hand gripped the gear stick, pushing it into gear as the other held the steering wheel and turned. 

The streets of Riften teemed with life as they drove, weaving through city streets. Muffled noise spilled in through the closed windows—the winding down of the marketplace, shops shutting, the bustle of people headed home from work. And with them, barely audible over the engine, a low hum and Ingun’s quickening breaths.

“I wonder,” Astrid said, pushing her gear stick back down, “if anyone outside knows exactly what’s going on in here right now.”

It would be almost impossible for anyone to know what was going on—tinted windows and the bustle of traffic made sure of that. Still, she knew even the idea would make Ingun wetter. They slowed to a stop at a set of traffic lights, and Ingun’s hand reached forward towards the radio.

“Don’t switch that on,” Astrid said, the hint of heat present in her voice. “I want to hear you.”

Something like a whimper came from Ingun, and Astrid could see her in her periphery, starting to squirm.

“Maybe I should open a window,” Astrid mused, thumb smoothing across the wheel. “Let everyone else hear you, too.” Shifted gears, let her hand linger on the stick. “Even just to let in some fresh air, since I can already smell your cunt.”

Ingun moaned this time, unconfined and vulgar, squeezing her legs together.

“Are you dripping all over my nice leather seats, dear?” Astrid reached over, her hand resting on Ingun’s thigh. “Getting my car all filthy? I wonder what your mother would say about that.”

“Fuck,” Ingun whined, head lolling back, hands gripping the sides of her seats. “Please—”

“I wonder if she’ll be able to smell you,” Astrid purred, stroking along where her hand rested, slowly moving upwards. “If she’ll know what her precious daughter let me do to her.” Her hand went underneath Ingun’s skirt, and she felt the girl’s legs part, inviting her in. “If she’ll know your panties are sitting in my glovebox, still soaking wet—” 

A wretched, desperate noise tore its way from Ingun’s throat. “Shit, fuck, please—” She arched against the seat, clearly struggling to find a position that didn’t make her shake. “You need to pull the fuck over because I’m going to—”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Astrid’s hand gripped Ingun’s thigh. “If you can’t control yourself, that’s your problem.” She released her grip, hand moving back to the wheel as the other opened the window just a crack—enough to either cool Ingun down or make the threat of being heard work her up more. 

Riften was becoming darker now, the light of day giving way to fluorescent street lights and neon signs. They streaked their way across the puddles and canals, stark and lurid; a fitting representation of the city’s seedy underbelly. Drunken revellers spilled out onto the streets, their voices loud; a prime target for the thieves undoubtedly laying in wait. Whores stood illuminated under a street lamp, hustling for Johns, and tucked away in a side alley a shivering man gripped a skooma bottle, trying to eke out the last precious remnants of its contents.

It was a city steeped in grime and sleaze, and of course this is where they would choose as a backdrop for the things they did; somewhere as filthy and corrupt as they both were. They could easily rent a room somewhere extortionate and fancy, take their time exploring each other, but that wasn’t what either of them wanted. They wanted debauched and depraved, quick and dirty; something that fit a woman fucking her best friend’s daughter.

Ingun’s breaths were growing more urgent now. She was nearly grinding herself against the seat, the noises slipping from her lips utterly vulgar, and Astrid made a note to up her urgency on finding somewhere secluded for them to pull in. If she didn’t, she was going to crash the car. 

Thankfully, they were nearing one of their usual spots, and Astrid turned in with a little more aggression than she meant to. They parked up, and she switched off the ignition, Shadowmere’s engine falling silent. Ingun’s moans and the vibrator inside her filled the space, almost too loud in contrast.

“You can turn that off now,” Astrid said. “If you like.”

Ingun’s hands moved lightning-fast, scrambling to press the button that would free her from her torture. She sighed as it stopped; whether in relief or frustration, Astrid wasn’t sure. No longer needing to keep her eyes on the road, Astrid could look at Ingun properly—lips a violent red, parted and plush, her cheeks flushed with desire and exertion. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, directly conflicting the tremors that still ran through her body, goosebumps and a thin sheen of sweat tracing across her skin. She was delicious like this—wrecked and desperate and obscene, every part the perfect little fuckdoll, ready to do whatever Astrid told her to.

“Wait here,” Astrid said, opening the door. “Try to behave yourself while I’m gone.”

The shop she headed into was one she’d been in many times—a nondescript, bits-and-pieces type place with a bored Dunmer sitting behind the counter, who barely looked twice when she handed over her septims for a bottle of fancy wine and a pack of mints. The door jingled behind her, heels clacking against the sidewalk as she returned to the car. The wine was for Maven—probably pisswater compared to what she usually drank, but the sentiment was at least there—and Astrid opened the trunk, slotting it inside a carrier for safekeeping. The trunk of her car was spacious—surprisingly so, given how it looked on the outside. Probably big enough to fit someone in, she thought. Might be fun to tie Ingun up and throw her in there sometime, too.

When she opened the door to the back of her car, Ingun was still sitting in the front, a fresh slick of red across her lips. 

Astrid sat in the middle, tapping her gloved fingers on the armrest. “Well?” Ingun turned around, and Astrid raised a brow in challenge. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

The look Ingun gave her in response was all heat, mouth curving into a grin as she climbed into the back, serpentine. She knelt between Astrid’s legs, ass poised invitingly in the air, and Astrid was glad she’d remembered to adjust the rearview before she’d got out of the car. The view was spectacular—her dark eyes looking up at her, already glassy and dazed; her ass and cunt on full display in the mirror, still plugged and slick with wetness. Ingun inched up Astrid’s skirt, parting her legs just slightly, following her stockings up to where they ended and her skin began. Astrid liked to dress up under her clothes—a gift for herself as well as Ingun—and the suspender belt she’d picked to hold her black stockings in place was one of her favourites, black and red silk to match her lover. The straps might have caused a problem for Ingun removing her panties, but she’d had the insight to think that far ahead. 

“Fuck,” Ingun breathed, her fingers meeting Astrid’s bare cunt. “So fucking hot—”

Astrid wound her fingers in Ingun’s hair. “If you’re speaking, that means you’re not doing something else.” She tugged, just hard enough to threaten. “Fix that.”

A whine came from Ingun, and she bent her head down, laying kisses and bright red lipstick prints on Astrid’s thighs. She liked to do this—leave something for Astrid to remember her by, claim her as her own—and Astrid was more than happy to let her. The thought of going to visit Maven wearing her daughter’s mark between her legs made her throb. Ingun’s mouth moved higher, almost where Astrid wanted it, her nose brushing against the crease of Astrid’s thigh.

“Wait,” Astrid said, nudging Ingun’s cunt with the tip of her heel. “Switch it back on.”

Ingun complied, trembling as the first thrums of vibration ran through her, leaning into Astrid and licking the first hot, slow stripe along her cunt. She was slow at first—teasing, pushing her tongue between her folds, tasting her—but then Astrid pressed her foot firmer against her and she picked up the pace, moaning into her as she rolled her tongue against her clit. Pleasure always made her that much more desperate, eager to please; focusing on bringing Astrid to her orgasm rather than her own. Fuck, she was so good, and Astrid couldn’t help but pull her closer, possessive and greedy. 

“Do you have any idea,” Astrid growled, “what you do to me, looking like that?” She gripped Ingun’s hair harder as she ground against her. “Like you want me to pull over and use you.”

The muffled whimper that came from between Astrid’s legs reverberated through her whole body. 

“So fucking wet, thinking about you and your talented mouth.” That earned Astrid another whine, as well as two of Ingun’s fingers pressing into her cunt, curling up and coaxing the want from her. “Had to get myself off in the shower this morning thinking about—fuck, thinking about what a good girl you were going to be for me—” She was losing control now, rambling to Ingun in lust-soaked tones, not sure if she wanted to see Ingun come too or if she wanted to do that herself. “That’s it—fuck, keep going, you’re so fucking good—”

Astrid’s orgasm washed over her in waves, pulsing and deep and violent, the gush of her release hot and wet against her thighs and Ingun’s face. She rode through the aftershocks, still clinging onto Ingun’s hair, thighs clenching hard either side of her. She was lost in it, brain dimmed, body loose, and when she came back to earth she let Ingun go, smiling down at her indulgently.

“Fuck me, you’re good at that,” she murmured, sinking further into the seat. 

Ingun grinned up at her, dishevelled; lipstick and slick smeared across her face, hair mussed and soaked with sweat. “Had practice.” She shuddered, squeezing her legs together, and Astrid remembered the predicament she’d placed the girl in.

The afterglow of orgasm gave way to something hungrier, and Astrid grinned, hungry and lecherous. “Look at you, so desperate.” She pressed her foot against Ingun’s cunt again, grin widening as Ingun shook. “I bet you’d fuck the gearstick just to get off, wouldn’t you?”

“Fuck, yes, please—”

Astrid cocked her head. “Or maybe,” she said, licking her lips, “you’d prefer to climb onto my lap and get off there?”

It was almost sweet, how enthusiastically Ingun nodded, how quickly she clambered onto Astrid’s thigh. “Please, I’m so fucking—I need it—”

“I know, dear.” Astrid bit the finger of her glove, coaxing it off with her teeth, and she could see Ingun try to keep composure even though it was killing her. “You’ve done so well.” Pulled up Ingun’s shirt, exposing her tits, pulling lightly at the bars piercing through her nipples. 

Ingun moaned loudly, grinding against Astrid’s leg in spite of herself. “Ohfuckplease—”

“You’re not to stop until I say so, understood?” Another tug at Ingun’s nipple prompted an answer, which was more a desperate keening noise than actual words. “Good. Then come for me, darling.”

Ingun nearly wailed, wrapping her hands around Astrid’s neck and rutting against her leg like a woman possessed. She felt so good, on Astrid’s lap like this, like it was just where she belonged—thighs clenching around her own, breaths heavy in her ear. When she came she was loud and vulgar and unabashed, cunt slick and throbbing against Astrid’s thigh, and she lolled into the headrest as she attempted to recover.

Astrid wasn’t going to give her that chance. With one hand she gripped Ingun’s hip, the other still toying relentlessly with her nipple.

“Oh, fuck—” It came out as a hoarse gasp, Ingun’s body stuttering. “Don’t think—can’t take this—”

“And I don’t think you have a choice,” Astrid growled, low and primal in her ear, pulling her down harder against her. “Not unless you say the word. But you’re not going to, are you?” She sank her teeth into Ingun’s neck, sucking hard enough to bruise, her pulse pounding under Astrid’s mouth.

_ Definitely glad I opted for soundproofing_, Astrid thought as Ingun came against her again, crying out so loud she could hear her voice starting to go raw. At the beginning, she might have felt bad, might’ve felt she was going too far. But she knew Ingun now—each dark part of her, what it was she truly desired, and most importantly, knew she’d let her know when she’d had enough. 

Ingun wound her hands in Astrid’s hair as she kissed her, visceral and demanding, teeth nipping at Astrid’s bottom lip. She still tasted of her cunt, and it only made apparent how much they both reeked of it, the smell thick in the confines of her car. Astrid kissed back, intense, her own hands roaming across Ingun’s body as the girl moaned into her mouth. She was insatiable, and Astrid couldn’t help but want to devour her, take her apart and pick every last piece of want off her bones until she was a shaking, shuddering wreck. By the sounds of it, she was close to achieving this, with Ingun in the throes of an orgasm that sounded equal parts glorious and torturous. 

“Ah—” Ingun’s hips canted forward, seemingly involuntarily. “Don’t. Want to stop but want to—” 

Astrid smiled, looking at Ingun’s glazed eyes and fucked-out face. “Then say it.” She pinched Ingun’s nipple, the noise coming from Ingun something anguished, then took the abused flesh in her mouth and sucked. Whatever Ingun had been going to say next was lost in a sea of garbled vowels and moans, but whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t her safeword. So Astrid kept going, gripping Ingun’s hips with sadistic intent, guiding her. Sucking and licking and biting at her nipple before moving to the other and giving it the same attention, and it wasn’t long before Ingun was trembling in her lap, keening into Astrid’s shoulder as her orgasm consumed her.

This time when Ingun worked her way through her aftershocks, she writhed in Astrid’s lap in a way that suggested a more urgent need to escape. The next word she formed was more sure than the others, albeit more shaky.

“N—nightshade.”

With that one word, Astrid let Ingun go, allowing her to sit up and remove the toy still buzzing inside her. At some point she’d started crying—Astrid wasn’t sure when, but her shoulder was damp—and makeup streaked her face, smudged and messy.

She never looked better than she did when Astrid took her apart.

Ingun climbed back into Astrid’s lap, collapsing against her. She didn’t like to cuddle—overly tactile physical contact after sex wasn’t something either of them cared for—but she let Astrid stroke her back and hair as she sobbed, body shaking with effort. 

“You’re okay,” Astrid cooed, brushing Ingun’s hair out of her face, “I’ve got you.”

It took a while for Ingun to come back down. Astrid had soothed her, telling her how good she was, and it was true. She was always good, and something tugged at Astrid knowing how little Ingun was told that. Maven had moaned to her at length many times about how troublesome her only daughter was—how she was a good-for-nothing dilettante, a reckless libertine—with a complete disregard to the amount of emotional neglect she’d been responsible for. Was it any wonder she might choose to seek comfort—or hurt—in the arms of others? 

“There’s water in the glove compartment,” Astrid said, letting Ingun ease off her. “Wipes, too.”

Sometimes Ingun dropped afterwards—whether because of shame or guilt or regret, Astrid didn’t really know. She’d offered what little support she could give, but her efforts had usually been rebuffed, Ingun insisting she didn’t want to talk about it. Astrid could relate, at least a little—she had felt guilty too, at the start. The very first time they’d fucked, on Ingun’s eighteenth nameday; the multiple times afterwards, in bathroom stalls and backseats. 

She didn’t feel guilty any more. Now that she knew Ingun, really knew her, she could see the cracks Maven had caused only too clearly. And Sithis knew Astrid loved a cold hard bitch—she _ was _ one—but Maven was on a whole other level, the kind of narcissistic and sociopathic that came with building an empire on the backs of others. At least Astrid just killed them; Maven milked them dry.

Ingun handed Astrid the bottle, half of it already gone, water spilling messily from the corners of her lips. She still looked dishevelled—like someone who had been fucked thoroughly and with intent—but she didn’t look distant or ashamed. In fact, she looked the opposite, smiling wryly into the passenger mirror as she fished out a wipe.

“Fuck, I look so good when you break me down like that,” she said, sighing with satisfaction.

Astrid took a swig of her water. “You really do.”

They chatted easily as they reapplied their lipstick and fixed their hair, returning to something resembling normal before Astrid got back into the front seat.

“So,” Ingun grinned, “same time next week?”

“If work allows,” Astrid said, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m game if you are.”

* * *

Astrid had dropped Ingun off at a friend’s place before going to meet Maven, and it’d been hard to let her go without kissing her and pulling her into the backseat again. She rode over to The Bee and Barb with the windows down, trying to both clear the smell of sex from her car and calm herself down. She wasn’t entirely sure how effective she was at doing either, but she didn’t really care. Wasn’t like Maven hadn’t done worse.

When she entered the Barb, Maven was there waiting for her, smiling knowingly over a glass of expensive red wine. 

“Late as usual,” Maven drawled. “Whoever you’re having these little dalliances with is obviously a catch.”

“Oh,” Astrid grinned, sitting down opposite, “you have no idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! And a massive thanks to [Topsy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopsiturvy) for beta reading this for me ❤
> 
> I'm always a slut for validation, so if you feel like tossing a kudos or comment my way, I'll love you forever. Or gimme a follow on [tumblr](raunchyandpaunchy.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.


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